Ask Siri
by SparkleMouse
Summary: What happens at Ryan's wedding stays at Ryan's wedding.
1. Chapter 1

a/n: I wrote this back in December before Ryan's wedding aired and posted it on Livejournal. I was asked last night if I was going to post my stories on here since a lot of people hadn't read them and I figured I should in case anyone had the desire to do so. And yes, I won't lie, comments do make the world go round!

There are two parts and part 2 will be posted immediately! (Sorry it's so long. I'm...wordy, shall we say.)

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

8:58 a.m.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The pain in his head is searing; intense, raw, reminiscent of college life and the parties he'd gone to after his first few books had hit the _New York Times_ best seller list. A headache so incredibly immobilizing that Rick Castle swears he's dead. Heaven is supposed to be naked women attending to his every whim. It's supposed to be all light and airy, filled with alcohol that doesn't give hangovers and muses that never cause writer's block.

He opens one eye; the drapes are pulled open and despite the dreary day outside, he groans. There had been a wedding last night, he thinks. There had clearly been alcohol. Champagne, mixed fruity drinks that came with little pink and green umbrellas that he likes, tequila.

Oh yes. There had been tequila.

Lots and lots of shots of tequila. There were no umbrellas for those. Just salt and Beckett's bare skin…

Beckett.

Castle's eyes pop open; he grimaces. Headache. Pain. So much goddamn pain. He turns his head to the left, his neck cracking in need of release. It's her hair he sees first. That dark curtain of tousled locks that is splayed across the white hotel pillows. Her bare right shoulder peeks out from underneath the blanket, perfectly curved around the duvet.

"Beckett," he whispers.

Her shoulder doesn't move. The curtain of hair remains messily in place. He shifts to the left to poke her, rolling over something.

Huh.

Well, he definitely isn't naked. Castle lifts the blanket, squints.

What. The. Fuck.

"Beckett," he whispers again. "Why am I in a kilt?"

Kate moans. It's low and deep in the back of her throat and the haze that clouds his mind softens. There had been a roof last night. Candy hearts. Confessions in the coldest parts of the night. Sex.

And after that, the blur is back; a hazy recollection of photos that don't quite come together.

The kilt, right.

"Ask Siri," Kate mumbles.

He considers asking who the hell Siri is, until he catches a glimpse of her cell on the nightstand. The iPhone. That little lady voice. He thinks he remembers her yelling at him in that stupid automated condescending tone of hers.

_Now, now, Rick. I can't help you find your way to Candy Mountain. The nearest candy store is one point two miles away._

"Kate." His voice is a little louder now.

"Castle, shut up. I'm sleeping."

Burying her head into her pillow, Kate slides closer to him, raising an eyebrow as she lifts the covers. "Are you wearing a kilt?"

"This is what I'm saying!" His raised voice causes him to wince. "Do you think I stole this from someone?" he asks, now barely a whisper. "Did a spirit bring it to me? Did an Irish alien want to take part in Riverdance with me?"

Kate laughs, the sounds muffled by the threaded sheets. His fingers find her hair, tangled knots that snag on the crevices of his fingers. She groans in pleasure. "Why do you always assume it's a supernatural force when you can't find an answer for something?"

"I want to believe," Castle mumbles. He leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes. "Okay, I remember the roof. I remember that you came on to me-" Kate's eyes narrow. "You're giving me the look right now, aren't you?"

"Tread lightly, Castle."

"Right. We'll never speak of it again. We had sex. Incredible sex. And then it's all blank. Did you drug me, Beckett?"

She smacks his chest, eliciting a grunt from him. "Yeah, Castle. You caught me. I figured the only way to get you _back_ into bed was to drug you."

"All you had to do was ask. Why do we keep waking up drugged?" His eyes open, focus on the floor beside him. Miniature tequila bottles are haphazardly thrown about, lying next to a drizzling of candy hearts. "Oh. Or we broke into the mini bar."

"I feel like you're going to try to piece this together like we're in _The Hangover_."

"If we were in _The Hangover_ that damn tiger would be back and in the bathroom." He shudders, looking past the curve of the wall. "Do you think she is?"

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't buy her."

"She ruined my love of Frosted Flakes! Anyway, do you have a better idea in figuring this out?"

"I'm a cop, Castle. If I really wanted to know what happened, I'd investigate."

"You can't tell me you don't want to know!"

The smile lifts her lips before she can stop it. "Last thing I remember is you licking salt off of me. You tasted like tequila."

"Want to see if I still do?"

She scrunches her nose, shakes her head. "Not until you stop smelling like you drowned in it. Let's figure this out first and then maybe I'll shower with you."

Castle's eyes light up; he's a child at heart. "Really?"

"I said maybe, Castle."

He grins, despite feeling like shit. "Give me your phone."

"Why?"

"I'm asking Siri about this kilt!"

"I was joking. I think you asked her enough questions last night. Did she ever give you an answer as to why the Smurfs are blue?"

"I might have offended her with that. Maybe she has a thing for Papa Smurf."

"What about yours? Did you look?"

"I think it's on your side."

Kate reluctantly rolls over, grabbing his phone off the night stand. She presses the phone on, the light illuminating them in its shadows. She scrolls through his photos, her mouth opening. "Okay, where was I during this and what the hell are you and Espo doing?"

* * *

><p>Saturday, January 7, 2012<p>

4:12 p.m.

On the afternoon of Kevin Ryan's wedding, the first week of January miraculously feels like it has rumblings of spring in its forecast (something Kate is sure pleases all the men arriving in traditional Irish kilts.) There's a light breeze that comes in from the open windows in her apartment and it smells like freedom. (She's sure Castle would have something to say about her desire to label things she never would have before like intangible things having scents.)

With the last tousle of her hair, Kate applies a layer of lip gloss in her bathroom mirror. From the light overhead, the navy chiffon of her dress appears to shimmer. Her back is nearly bare due to the dipping of the material and it's sexy; too sexy or not sexy enough or maybe she's not sure what she's trying to convey tonight, to him.

When Castle had asked her to attend Ryan's wedding with him, ("As friends," he had clarified, as if she'd decline otherwise) she had agreed.

It was nine days before Christmas (and a week after he asked her) when their lies had hit the fan. First hers, then his. A fluke accident that had unraveled causing them not to speak for at least two weeks after. No calls on Christmas, no celebration as the year turned into another.

No word until Castle had called her a few days back. ("So, the wedding…should I still pick you up or…?") Much to her chagrin, she felt the hate she had reserved specifically for him melt away the slightest bit. She agreed to still go with him - God knows why - said it would be fine.

As she waits for him now, she's not all that sure it is.

He knocks on the door. One tap, another, and she steels herself, takes a breath because whether she's ready or not, there's no backing out.

"Wow," is out of his mouth the moment she opens the door, and she thinks that he's not aware because embarrassment doesn't color his face even after all they've been through. "You look great."

In the three and a half years she's known Rick Castle, she's never felt so out of her skin.

"Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself."

There's a beat of silence.

"Should we…" He nods to the elevator behind him.

"Yeah," Kate answers, "let's go."

* * *

><p>Saturday, January 7, 2012<p>

4:29 p.m.

It's when they're stuck behind the fifth red light in what must be three minutes that Castle gathers the courage to look at her. She's staring out the window, biting down on her lip like she did that first day they met; this mix of slyness and unsurity he's never fully been able to figure out. She's a book he wishes he knew by heart. One he's written, edited, reworked a hundred times over but the end never fits because he continues to discover something new about her, something he loves more than he thought he would.

In the reflection, she catches him staring. Their eyes meet and even through glass, he sees the regret there, the anger, the hope, the loss. She's a mix of contradictions, they both are and it's in times like these that the words come to him, swirling in his brain, yearning to form sentences, paragraphs, chapters.

_The flecks of gold in Nikki's eyes as her secrets remain her own. It's moments like now that Rook realizes why no other relationships have worked. He's never felt like this and even as a writer, he finds that words can never convey enough. Nikki-_

Castle tears his eyes away from her when her stare flits to the floor and he focuses on his driver, on making this normal. He's the king of jokes, of lighthearted behavior but she's changed him maybe as much as he's changed her.

"So Joe, when's the wife due?" he asks, and he can swear he hears Kate breathe a sigh of relief.

"Couple of weeks, Mr. Castle. Can't wait to meet my little girl."

He thinks of Alexis throughout her years, how he'd be nowhere without her. "They're the best. They grow up way too fast."

The quiet settles, a little more comforting this time. He's writing in his head again, and it's been a while since the words have willingly come.

"We have to talk before we go into this wedding," Kate mumbles.

He's not sure if she intends for him to hear, but he nods regardless. "Hey, Joe? You mind sticking the earphones in for a second?" He turns to Kate. "Little trick I learned from Connelly and _The Lincoln Lawyer._

"A little trick that's illegal. You can't drive with two earbuds in."

"Then he'll put in one."

"That defeats the purpose of not hearing."

The center console slides up.

"I'm sorry," they both say at once and the ice breaks beneath them.

"Go ahead," Castle offers.

Kate looks down at her nails, a light pink that's perfectly polished. "I know that you were trying to help me," she says, lifting her eyes to him, "but you had no right to dig into my mother's case without me."

"They would have killed you, Kate. If they knew you were still looking into it they wouldn't hesitate. I wasn't going to let that happen. Not again."

He itches to say the words, to make her understand. But she's been his shadow for the past three years, much like he's been hers. She might not be penning books, but he knows she understands him like no one else ever has.

She bites her lower lip again, and this time it's all unsurity. "How mad are you at me?"

"I'm not mad, I'm...disappointed you thought you couldn't tell me."

"I could say the same thing to you."

"That's different."

"Is it?" she challenges. "Knowing that, knowing how you felt, I just, I needed time, Castle. I couldn't..." Kate looks at him through long, dark lashes and just like on the swings, he can't stay upset as much as he might want to. "I'm sorry. I hope you know how much you-"

The divider lowers a fraction of an inch.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Castle, but we're at the church."

Startled, Castle looks out the window. He's almost forgotten where they are and timing hasn't been his strong suit, not lately. "We should finish this, Kate-"

She shakes her head and he sees the relief on her face. "We should get inside." Her hand lingers on the door handle. "Later, okay?"

His heart sinks. With Kate later will be months, possibly years.

"Yeah," he finally agrees. "Later."

* * *

><p>Saturday, January 7, 2012<p>

9:19 p.m.

It doesn't surprise her that Ryan and Jenny scatter each table with candy hearts. There are the standards, the ones she used to collect when she was in high school with Madison. They'd spend their study hall choosing the perfect ones to hand out to unsuspecting guys because February meant cold and adventure was lacking. _Be Mine. Kiss Me. Let's Get Busy._ There are also one's with today's date on one side, Ryan and Jenny's name on the other.

Had this been five years ago, Kate thinks she would have scoffed at the act of having these at a wedding. Not maliciously, but instead as a non-believer. She would have sat here, biding her time until she could leave, dreading the moment she was to head home alone because she didn't have the energy to even bring a date with her.

Five years ago, she didn't know Castle.

Now she wishes time would move slower as if that alone could help her figure this out with him. He's gone off to get a drink and she scans the room, her foot tapping to the beat of some Irish tune that she's actually enjoying. She grabs the cocktail in front of her, taking a swig of it. It's vodka and while it's not her favorite, it slides easily down her throat, putting her at ease.

"Lanie and Esposito off in a corner fighting somewhere?" Castle asks, and she's not sure where he's come from. There's a fresh drink in his hand, a green umbrella clashing with whatever concoction he's got going on.

"Don't ask. I think Esposito's twelve year old date might have run off with Jenny's brother. I don't even want to venture a guess as to where Lanie's is." She scowls at the odd blue color of his cocktail. "Do I want to know what that is?"

"I'll have you know that since owning a bar I've learned how to make some pretty awesome drinks. I like to call this 'The Smurfette.' Clever, right?"

Kate smiles, lifting an eyebrow. "It looks disgusting."

"Taste," he says.

She takes it from his offering hand, poising it at her lips. It smells like blueberries and rum, maybe a little bit like raspberries. It's fruity and bitter, the taste lingering on her lips and she will not allow herself to think about what it would be like to kiss him right now, how sweet he'd taste once he's done drinking this. The red creeps up on her cheeks and the sheath of material (or lack thereof) isn't enough to keep her cool. "Not as bad as I would have thought."

"In other words, you like it."

"In exactly the words I said, it's not as bad as I thought."

"I'll take it." He eyes her clear (and in his mind, boring) drink. "You need something more fun. What about a 'Betty White'?"

"I'm sure I'll regret this, but what exactly is in 'Betty White'?"

"I'm sure a lot of men over the years. Ba dum-"

"The drink, Castle."

"If I told you, it wouldn't be half as fun."

Kate rolls her eyes. "I'm going to pass."

He takes his phone out of his pocket. "I'll ask again later. You might be drunk enough to change your mind."

_New Tweet. WriteRCastle._

_Love weddings! Might be the open bar. Congrats Kevin and Jenny! Just wait until you see what I have planned. Intrigue!_

"You're tweeting about this?"

"Just because you don't tweet, Detective - and by the way you should - doesn't mean that others can't during such a happy event."

"And what would I say, Castle? Went into what my partner believed was a haunted house today. The lights continued to flicker. I got up into the secret crawl space only to find a dead body which happens to be my job and solved a murder?"

"I miss that suit. And that is way more than 140 characters. Do you even understand the intricacies of Twitter?"

"No, I have better things to do with my time."

"You're just jealous."

"Of your many followers?"

"I will have you know that I have over sixty-two thousand of them," he responds with pride.

She doesn't hide the smile that creeps onto her lips. "How many does Jason Bateman have?"

Castle grabs his chest in mock wound. "That hurts, Beckett. If I were on a critically acclaimed show that went off the air too quickly I'd have more than him!"

"Whatever you say, Castle." She hears the arguing coming before she sees them. So far today, she's learned that Esposito gains a bit of an accent when he fights, that the aggressive New Yorker in Lanie comes out like Kate's never seen it before. "Incoming," she mutters.

"Should we duck and cover?"

"Too late."

Simultaneously (and mid argument), Esposito and Lanie pull out their chairs. "I never wanted to break up!" Esposito exclaims, and he's half on the chair, half off in case he needs to move the fight elsewhere. "That was your idea."

"My idea? You better get that selective memory of yours checked, Detective. You show up to the wedding with that top heavy twelve-year-old-"

"And you showed up with Mr. Muscles-"

"Guys," Kate interrupts, "come on, not here."

The argument stops as they turn, as if they hadn't realized where they were.

"Awkward," Castle mutters, popping a heart into his mouth. "Have you two considered couple's therapy?"

Kate nudges him, shaking her head. "Castle, stop."

"No, hold on. I'm being serious here. You're both being ridiculous. I don't know why you two broke up – mainly because no one cared to share the details with me – but all of this arguing? If you didn't still care, you wouldn't be doing it all these months later."

Esposito glares at him. "Dude, relationship advice? Really?"

"Yes, I've had two failed marriages. But I also never wanted to save the relationship enough to fight with either of them like the two of you do. You guys are good together. Esposito, your date ditched you for Jenny's little brother – best man and woman stealing, I might like this kid – and Lanie, I might have seen your date head off with someone who looked alarmingly like the stripper we hired in Atlantic City." Castle finishes off his blue concoction with a shrug. "So isn't it time you two kids dealt with your issues and made up already?"

"I could kill you, man."

"Only because you know I'm right. So go outside, use your words – the non-yelling kind – and either fix this or battle each other in some type of fight club because the arguing is ridiculous already."

The yelling has died down, and they're quiet as if debating. Castle's staring at them like they're a play, like he's their writer and the irony strikes her that in so many ways he's hers. She slides her fingers under his chin so he stops staring at Lanie and Esposito and then he's looking at her and it's like it was in the car earlier, like it's been for the past year or so.

It used to be a look of lust in his eyes, a conquest, a need to win when she had turned him down the moment they met. It's changed though, and she's not all that sure when except now he looks at her like she's everything. For a man who's made his living with words, she reads everything in his gaze that he never says and she drops her hand. Her drink becomes her savior and the buzzing of the phone is his. It's then she realizes that Lanie and Esposito are no longer there, and she's grateful no one has seen this all too personal moment between them.

"I'll be right back," Castle says, pushing out his chair. "Ryan and Jenny's wedding present is ready to be unveiled!"

On stage, the music dies down. The microphone is already in Castle's hands and there are so many ways this can go. Kevin and Jenny are on the dance floor in front of him and Ryan's muttering something, possibly urging Castle not to embarrass him in front of all of these people. She'd never say it hasn't been an adventure since Castle's come into their lives. She can only imagine what he's gotten them: a pony, a hot air balloon-

"For those of you who don't know me, I'm Rick Castle. I'm not the best man much to my disappointment, but I did want to get Kevin and Jenny a little something special to commemorate this day. Now, Kevin's partner Javier and I spent a lot of time, and I mean _a lot_ of time, trying to get the first dance song out of Kevin. Mainly so we could mock him. And we did, by the way. So much mocking. However as it turns out, I happen to be friends with the very band that they chose and I couldn't think of a better present than this. Kevin, Jenny, I wish you nothing but the best in your marriage. To perform the first dance, allow me to introduce Chicago."

There is a squeal out of Jenny as the band takes position and the opening chords of the song begin. It hits Kate like a ton of bricks: the live piano, the song Ryan and Jenny had chosen. She had planned to humor Castle with his excitement to tell her on the day he found out, but a case had gotten in the way and they'd both forgotten.

_You're the Inspiration._

She knows he's beside her before she looks (she always knows these days.) She takes in a breath, turns to face him.

"You got them Chicago as a wedding present?" Kate asks, incredulously.

"A wedding loaner. They turn into pumpkins at midnight." He holds out his hand to her. "Dance with me."

It's too much and not enough at the same time.

She's in his arms, and later she'll try to remember if she had agreed or he had taken her out there regardless of her response. Their fingers are laced together, and one hand slides down her back as he holds her against him, so close that she can feel his heart against hers. Her lips are nearly pressed into his neck and he smells like cologne and the slightest bit of rum and it's in moments like this that she hates her issues, that she hates herself for not allowing him in. They're moving slow and steady, dancing on air or not dancing at all.

"They look happy." His voice startles her and she turns her head to look at the bride and groom, her nose grazing his cheek. He brushes the hair away from her face, and he's looking at her like that again and it's right, unmarred by the past.

"Think you'll ever get married again?"

"Third time's a charm, right? Of course she'd have to cater to my every whim at all times. She'd have to make me breakfast when I'm up writing late. I demand mints on my pillow-"

Kate laughs. "So you're never getting married again."

The music is around them, live and gorgeous and perfect. Her eyes close as his grip around her tightens and it's quite possible this is everything she's ever hoped for. She's spinning and standing still; safe and petrified.

"When the time is right," he whispers, and he's bending down, lips pressed to her ear. The song is close to ending, but his voice is all she hears. His fingers are caressing the small of her back and she's being dropped from the tallest of heights, like love is something that can easily have comparisons. "I'll do it one more time."

It's in that moment that she knows he'll stay.

The spinning steadies; she's no longer standing still, but closing what little distance there is between them, feet moving in rhythm with his.

Kate squeezes his hand. _Wait for me._

Without words, he knows her. He squeezes back. _Always._

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

12:04 a.m.

It's just the six of them now, an empty ballroom filled with remnants of a great party.

The wedding had ended over an hour ago and good-bye to the bride and groom (and congratulations to Lanie and Esposito for getting back together thanks to Castle's advice) turned into another bottle of champagne, more dancing, a reminder to Castle that these are his people now just as much as Patterson or Connelly and his writer crew have been for years. He's stealing another bottle when he hears Kate's laugh, loud and vibrant across the room. She's dancing with Esposito and he's whispering to her and she looks so comfortable in her own skin tonight that it makes Castle gleam with some undeserved pride.

"They keep the good stuff hidden back here," Jenny interrupts, carefully sliding out a bottle of Cristal from where he's currently looking. The white of her gown bunches around her and she looks like a princess, even at the end of the night. "Rick, I can't thank you enough for what you did tonight. You've been such a good friend to Kevin and me and having Chicago here…" They stand together and she kisses his cheek. "Thank you. You made tonight even more special than I could have imagined."

"It was my pleasure. And may I say what a beautiful bride you are. Kevin is one lucky guy."

"I'm the lucky one." Jenny looks behind her, and she takes in the group that remains, at the people she's inherited much like Castle. "You and Kate look really great together. I know after what happened with Javier and Lanie I should just shut my mouth, but…" She trails off, shrugging. "I just want everyone to be as happy as I am."

There isn't an answer that sounds good enough, because he knows he looks great with Kate, knows they would be great together. Instead, he guides her back to the table and pops the cork on the newest bottle. The song that's playing over the speaker system – something corny that seems like it would fit perfectly in Ryan's collection – ends and Kate's back in the chair next to his, her face flushed. She looks gorgeous, and her legs are dangling over the side of the chair with those silver stilettos she's wearing and she's smiling at him like he's actually worthy of that pride he was feeling earlier.

"Yo, bro, did you invite Montgomery's family tonight?" Esposito asks. He's back next to Lanie, an arm around the back of her chair and Castle's not sure he could write this moment better if he tried (and yes, it's an entirely cheesy thought on his behalf. Damn weddings.)

"We did. Evelyn was out of town with the kids this weekend, though, and I'm sure it would have been too hard for her to be here."

They let it sit between them, the loss of one of their own.

"At least you didn't invite Gates as a replacement. She would have been judging us from the corner with those pursed lips of hers. _Mr. Castle,_" he imitates, "_just what do you think you're doing dancing to this very upbeat band? There is no fun to be had. Ever._" He shivers dramatically. "She's a witchy woman."

"I see her at the meetings all the time," Kate grins, taking a sip of champagne.

"Oh, funny! Because I once called you that. Look at the sense of humor that comes out of Beckett when you get her drinking!" She shakes her head and laughs, and to prove his point she finishes more than half the glass. "You and me, Old Haunt, drinking contest."

"I already told you, Castle, you don't wanna challenge Kate when it comes to alcohol. It's like she's a nineteen-year-old college guy when you get her going."

"That's great, Lanie, thanks. Do you guys remember Ryan's birthday, what was it? Five years ago?"

Ryan shakes his head. "No. Because _someone_," he enunciates, glaring at Esposito, "got me locked in a closet and I missed the entire night. It was my thirtieth birthday!"

"You got Ryan locked in a closet?" Castle asks, gleefully. "I already love this story!"

"Thanks, man," Ryan says. "Do you want to hear Esposito's version or the real version?"

"How long have you known me? Esposito's!"

"We were at some bar downtown," Esposito starts, "and Ryan's late. He was probably getting his hair to stand up and look pointy like he's Ryan Seacrest-"

"I was not-"

"So I meet this hot chick, smoking hot-"

"She was not that hot," Lanie intervenes. "She was all over you like she'd never seen a man before."

"Baby, I only had eyes for you even then."

"Such a bad liar, Javi. Remember that I know that."

"Anyway," Kate continues, rolling her eyes, "Ryan finally shows up, right? And Espo over here tells Ryan he has the perfect girl for him."

"Is this one of those stories where the hot girl turns out to be a guy? I love those stories!"

"You got some of those, Castle?" Lanie asks with a grin.

"You wouldn't be able to handle my wild days, Dr. Parish."

"I think we've all seen them on page six," Kate muses, patting his leg. "So, Javi tells Ryan that he has a little birthday surprise for him. He tells him to go to the bathroom, freshen up and come back out in ten minutes."

"I thought it _was_ the bathroom!" Ryan argues. "It had the little symbol on the door. It could have happened to anyone."

"But it didn't, bro."

"No one went to look for him?" Jenny asks.

"And this is where drunk Beckett comes in," Lanie carries on. "Kate had found herself in the middle of a college reunion with a bunch of former frat guys from Syracuse."

Castle looks over at her, grinning, and she's blushing, burying her face in her hands. He's never seen this side of her and more than ever he wants to know who she is when she doesn't have the weight of the world digging into her shoulders.

"They kept going on and on about how adorable she was and kept asking to buy her pretty little drinks."

"Oh I'm sure you must have loved that, Kate," Jenny laughs.

"So I challenged them." Kate finishes off her champagne and he's pouring her another one. "Trying to liquor me up, Castle?"

"I want to see how much you can handle."

"Enough. I ended up challenging them to beer pong, followed by shots of tequila. I was drunk for the entire next day, but it was entirely worth it."

"Wait, what about Kevin?" Jenny asks.

"Thank you, honey. Yes, what about Kevin." He takes a sip of his drink, mock anger outling his features. "They forgot. Esposito lost interest in his girl because he was enthralled with Beckett's wild side and therefore forgot that he had supposedly set something up for me. It wasn't until three hours later when Montgomery showed up that they realized I was gone. I smelled like cleaning solution for a week."

"No one asked you to bathe in it," Esposito goads.

"It fell on my head when I was trying to get out of there! Worst thirtieth ever."

"I had fun," Kate and Esposito answer simultaneously.

Castle claps his hands together. "We have to do this. Next weekend, Old Haunt."

"After seeing Castle in Atlantic City, he might be able to take you, Beckett," Esposito claims. "I'm putting my money on him for this one."

Castle eyes crinkle. "On second thought, I don't need that kind of hangover again. I haven't had one that bad since I was thirty-one and I…No, I can't tell that story to a table full of cops."

"I think that's for the best, although thirty-one?" Kate narrows her eyes. "I would have thought it would have been later."

"Contrary to popular belief, in recent years before I became a cop-"

"Civilian investigator," Kate corrects.

"Fine. Before I became a _civilian investigator _ I spent most of my drinking nights playing poker and drinking scotch with other mystery writers."

"Hey Rick?" Jenny asks. "You're friends with Patterson, right? How come you don't do commercials like he does?"

"Never needed them, I guess. Patterson likes to ham it up in front of the camera."

"And you don't?" Lanie asks.

"As Beckett so nicely pointed out, I've been on page six enough." He turns to Kate, poking her in the shoulder. Her eyes are bright and her face flushed as she raises an eyebrow at him. The smile is being drawn out of her, though, and tonight surrounded by friends flirting somehow seems okay.

"What is it, Castle?"

"You should do a commercial with me! In my dreams you have on these red heels, high, like the ones you're wearing now and you're in a short red dress leaning over a pool table-"

It's loud and unexpected when she laughs, and underneath the table her knee rests against his thigh. "That's quite the imagination you have."

"Girl, do it," Lanie says, pouring another glass. "I'd read it."

"Are you saying you don't read my novels, Lanie?"

"Not since I've known you, Castle."

"I think I should be insulted."

"Don't let her fool you, Castle," Esposito chimes in. "She still reads them, especially the scenes between Ochoa and Lauren. Muy caliente."

"You want to go for a second breakup, Javi?" Lanie threatens. "The man doesn't need an ego boost."

Castle frowns. "Still sitting right here, guys."

"If it makes you feel better, Rick, after Kevin brought home your books, I read all of them," Jenny offers. "Some more than once."

"Just for that, you're getting a character in my next book!"

"More than Honeymilk's wife?" Jenny jokes.

Ryan grimaces. "All right, so I like warm honeymilk! There is nothing wrong with that."

"Dude, it's a little weird."

"And while we're on the subject," Castle interjects, "can we please for five seconds make fun of the kilt? You're wearing a skirt. On your wedding day. It's in pictures forever."

Kate leans into him. Her hair smells like lilacs, her skin like cherries. She's all Nikki Heat tonight; extraordinary, vibrant, fearless. The champagne shines on her lips and she licks them with the glass still poised in her hand. "Your legs would look great in a kilt," she whispers.

If he bites his lip any harder, he'll draw blood. He looks down at her and she's grinning and it reminds him of Christmas and Santa's naughty or nice list and- "See, witchy!" he mumbles so only she can hear and the laughter that rumbles out of her warms him.

It takes him a second to realize his phone is vibrating and he slides it off the table into his hand. "Joe's wife went into labor!" he exclaims. The entire table with the exception of Kate stares at him in question. "My driver's wife. Looks like we're going to need to find a new way home."

"Luckily for us, we live in Manhattan where there are thousands of cabs at our disposal," Kate mocks. She presses a button on her iPhone. "Siri, what's the closest cab company to here?"

A little automated voice comes on, "Here is a list of the closest taxis, Kate."

"It's like you're best friends," Castle notes. "That's so cute! Can I play with her?" he asks reaching for it.

Kate slaps his hand away. "No."

"Oh come on! My phone is awesome, but it doesn't have a little voice who talks to me." He widens his eyes at her, pouts. "Please." She rolls her eyes, sliding it to him. "Hi Siri, I'm Rick. Want to be friends?"

"I think that's our cue to head upstairs," Jenny jokes. "Kev, you ready?"

"Yeah. Are you guys heading home?" he asks Lanie and Esposito.

"We decided to spend the night, celebrate our little reunion," Lanie responds.

"Little reunion that wouldn't have taken place if I hadn't of meddled," Castle mumbles, turning away from Lanie's death glare. "Beckett, we should get a room!"

She nearly chokes on her champagne. "What? No."

"Have you ever seen the penthouse suites in this hotel? It's an experience everyone should have at least once. I'll sleep in the living room. Promise. We can all do breakfast in the morning. Like a destination wedding, but in Manhattan!"

"Good luck with that Castle," Esposito says, pulling out Lanie's chair. "Call me if you're here in the morning," he mouths and Castle nods.

Goodnights are exchanged, hugs and congratulations going around until it's only the two of them. Kate's still turned sideways, her legs crossed over the other, dangling between his. The smile hasn't left her lips in hours and he wants to kiss her, wants her more than he ever has before. Her hand is propped against her cheek and she's leaning on the table lazily and it makes him think of the future too much, of hope and possibilities.

"I'm serious about the room, Kate. It has an amazing view of the city, a balcony. I promise I won't grope you. Even if you did make comments about my legs."

He watches the debate pass through her eyes, until she finally nods. "Fine, but you're on the couch."

"Wow, you gave in really easily!"

"I wouldn't get too cocky. I'm agreeing because I want to see this room you keep going on and on about."

"You ready?"

She glances at her watch – something softer tonight instead of her dad's – and sits up. "Come with me somewhere first?"

"Where?"

Her smile turns sheepish. "The roof. I want to see the skyline. I've lived in this city my entire life and I never get to appreciate it anymore."

He pulls out her chair and she's walking toward the door, the material draping across her back as she moves. "Do you want your jacket? It's freezing out there."

Kate grabs another bottle of champagne, gathering a couple of glasses. "No, I'll be fine."

"Kate-"

"Castle."

Her eyes are brilliant with life and he doesn't want to argue, so he merely follows.

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

1:11 a.m.

From the roof of the Mondrian, Manhattan glows.

Lights burn throughout the city; a twinkling skimming across the waters, over the balconies like a map of Christmas decorations. He had followed her up here with protests that she'd need a jacket; he had listed the stats of frost bite and she had rolled her eyes, reminding him about the freezer, that out of all people she understood what the medical definition of it was. (She was more than grateful that he didn't bring up Josh, although she figured he was biting his tongue on some witty comment he just _had_ to get out.)

The moment the door slams shut behind them, she's regretting not taking her coat, even more so regretting that Castle is in fact right. It's chilly without the sun, the truth of January slipping past the mask of warmth from earlier. A shiver passes through her and then he's behind her, his breath hot against her ear. He's nearly against her and she resists the urge to lean back into his touch.

"Bet you're wishing you had taken your coat when I offered."

"Do you always have to be so smug?"

"You don't let me win a lot, Beckett. I have to take it when I can get it."

He's losing the jacket – some black, double-breasted pea coat she's sure costs more than her yearly salary- and she's shrugging into it with his help. He pulls her hair loose from the collar and she turns around, her lips lifting in a half smile.

"I let you win more than I should." The champagne flutes clink in her hand. "Choose the spot."

He walks to the railing and sits, shivering. "Your ass is not going to like how cold the ground is. Judging by the lack of material…You're _sure_ you want to play out here? We can go inside to that gorgeous suite I just reserved for you so you don't have to take a cab home."

Kate laughs, hands him the bottle. "Oh, I'm sure your intentions on that are pure, Castle." She can do this. She'll just sit down and her ass will adjust to the- "Shit," she mumbles, and yeah, it's really fucking cold.

"Do you want to sit on my lap?" She glares at him, casting her eyes over his suit. "No. Kate, it's a $3,500 Valentino suit."

"That you're on the ground with anyway." She sees him losing the battle with himself. The jacket is off and she stands so he can place where she's sitting. "I'll get it cleaned for you."

He pops the cork on the champagne while she settles into his side – their third, maybe fourth shared bottle of the night. She's not drunk; it's more that she's at ease, more willing to admit things that she never might have before. A gust of wind passes her and she shields her face against it, her nose brushing the collar of his jacket. It smells like him; all cologne and body wash – some girly scent that she'll have to make fun of later. He'll say it smoothes the skin, or it hydrates his pores, or something else utterly ridiculous and she'll laugh – not because it's funny, but because she knows him well enough by now to know his answers. She stays in that position for seconds, maybe a minute or so and she's breathing him in. It's possible she's a little tipsier than she thought.

He hands her a glass and if he sees what she's doing, he doesn't say anything. The alcohol bubbles and she sips it, sticking her hand in his pocket to shield at least one from the cold. She's pulling out three bunches of candy hearts then, dropping them – one lands on her lap, one his, another split between them as if they're the same.

"Did you steal these from the reception?"

"It's not called stealing when the wedding is over and there are bags of them still left on tables," Castle corrects. He untangles the tie from the little gift bag, spilling a handful into his hand. "Want one?" He's rifling through them, their sayings faded in dark, red lettering. "Reach 4 It. What exactly do you think it's asking you to reach for? Oh! Let's ask Siri."

She pulls it out of her clutch, reluctantly handing it over. "Do me a favor and try not to kill my battery."

"Siri, what are we reaching for?"

The iPhone comes alive. "I do not understand your question."

Castle grunts. "Well, that's disappointing."

"She's a computer, Castle! What do you expect?"

"I will have you know that if you ask her for a blowjob, she will locate the nearest escort service." Her lashes lift and she's giving him that witchy look that makes him shudder. "Not that I asked that on your phone! Nor was I looking for an escort. But she's so smart, Beckett!" He presses the button again. "Siri, would you go out on a date with me?"

"No."

"Ha! Denied by Siri. Don't worry, Castle. I'm sure we can call up one of those escorts she offered."

"I feel so rejected right now. My phone would never treat me this poorly." He reaches his hand into the coat she's wearing, lingering a little too long over her upper thigh as he searches. "Found it!" he exclaims, pulling out his phone before she can blame him for any wrong doing. "Look how lovely she is. She has my Twitter all ready for me."

His fingers click over the keys and she pulls the phone down so it's in her line of vision. "On the roof with the real Nikki Heat. This is not a cry for help." She shakes her head. "You're not tweeting this. I don't need the precinct or your six thousand fans knowing what we're doing."

"Sixty-two thousand," he corrects. "Oh, that probably didn't help my case."

"It didn't." She shivers as the wind rumbles past them in full force and he's rubbing her arms before she knows it, warding out the chill. It makes her think of his hands on her bare skin, what it would feel like to be beneath him, over him, against him. She's flushed, and champagne, she needs more champagne. "How's the next book coming?"

It seems like a safe subject until she remembers that she _is_ Nikki Heat (not that she ever really forgets.)

"It's been a while since I've written. There have been so many cases and I haven't had the time. Gina's ready to kill me."

His ex-wife's name feels like that first second she had been shot; loss of breath, unexpected shock, a need to hold on. His eyes are dark when she looks at him, but the truth still shines through them. She can still read the novel he wants to tell with just a look. "If being my partner is stopping you from doing your job…" But she trails off, because she doesn't want to finish that thought, she doesn't want to give him permission to leave.

"I'll get it done," Castle assures. "I work better under pressure. I like the deadlines." There's something else and she knows he's in her head trying to figure it out. "But this isn't about the book, is it?"

She isn't sure if she should move closer to him or further away, but she's so sick of running from this, from him. If she's gonna do this, she's going to let the courage of alcohol be her starting off point. "I wish you had known me before my mom died, Castle. I wasn't afraid of anything. I didn't constantly fear what was to come."

"You walk into rooms with guns and criminals every day, who you scare the shit out of by the way. You don't think that's fearless?"

"There's a difference between risking your life and living it."

He takes her hand that is resting in her lap, links his fingers between hers. He's giving her something to hold onto, that lifeline she needs more than he can ever realize. She curls her hand under her, taking his along with it. She had done this with him after Tyson had run, and it had felt right then, even more so now.

"I don't know who you were then, Kate. Maybe one day you'll fill it in for me or even become that person again but who you are now? It's who I…It's more than you think it is. It's more than enough."

He will forever be the person who can say I love you while saying something else entirely.

Kate's eyes shine and she blinks, the city lights obscuring her sight in the reflection of her tears. "I've had feelings for you for a long time, Rick," she admits, "but…" She stumbles because she's not him, there's not a place for each word no matter how hard she tries. "That summer you spent in the Hamptons, I was going to tell you. I thought I was ready to start something."

It flashes over his face: why she's bringing this up now, what would have happened had he not answered Gina's call. "Were you?"

"Maybe at the time, before it got so…complicated."

"That's what you were trying to tell me before I left. That you broke up with Demming, that you were going to come with me."

She nods. "Until Gina came in and I remembered you're Rick Castle."

The grip of his hand loosens slightly. "What does that mean?"

She picks up the glass with her other hand and downs the rest of it. It's chilled from the night; then again, so is she. It's all the cards on the table now. "You left when the going got tough for someone you knew was an easy answer."

"That's not fair. You can't begrudge me for getting into a relationship with someone else. You turned me down." She's about to loosen her fingers, to let him go, when he tightens his hold. "It's different now, Kate. I wouldn't…it's different."

Her voice is caught in her throat. "I know," she whispers.

"You didn't call me for months after Montgomery's funeral and I was still in that precinct every day trying to find out who had shot you. I took on your mother's murder so you would be safe. I've been by your side on every single case you've had since you've come back and the two and a half years before it. When I thought I lost you…." He stops and she hears it in his voice, the pain she never wanted to cause him. "You can't hold my past against me anymore."

"I'm not holding it against you, Castle." Their eye contact doesn't break; it never does. "I'm scared," she admits and she bends her head now, the curtain of dark hair falling over her eyes. "I don't know what I would do without your…partnership."

He picks up her phone, pushing the center button twice. "Siri, how do we get Detective Beckett to believe she's stuck with me?"

"The nearest tow truck service is ten miles away and are all closed for the evening."

The laughter comes out of her and it's loud, filled with relief. "She's so helpful."

Kate finds it easier to breathe now, puffs of white smoke all around them. The exhaustion starts to slip in – not just from the night but from the past twelve years – however her body begins to loosen as if it's slowly shifting into who she wants to be. Her head slips onto his shoulder, and his grip on her tightens. Their joint hands tap to an unheard beat on their laps.

"We should head in," Castle says gently after a few minutes. "We can't have you catching hypothermia. Again."

"As long as we don't get stuck up here overnight, I think we're fine."

He's reaching for her phone, a feat with his arm still around her. "Then at least put on some music."

"You go on and on about your phone contract on several occasions so stop taking mine."

"I want to see what music you have. And for the record, I had an iPhone, but the Windows Phone has so many better features. It has Xbox! I can play Xbox anywhere, Beckett! Plus, you have all these different sections. There's something called the people's hub which allows you to see what your core group of friends are up to. No matter what you do, I can follow your every move."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like you're a stalker at all. Are you their new spokesperson or something? This is excessive phone talk, even for you."

"Oh good, you noticed! It's between me and Lou Diamond Phillips. The guy has two cameos on _Cougar Town_ and all of a sudden he's a star again? I was _just_ number one on the best seller list!"

Kate shakes her head. "It must be hard to be you, Castle."

"You don't even know the half of it. I have this hot partner who-"

"Is not about to have whatever conversation you're about to start."

He's scrolling through her music now, some grunts of disapproval, excitement in others. "I'm going to have to tell Jon how much Bon Jovi you have on here. You even have that country crap he's singing nowadays. No, nevermind. You'll take a liking to him and he has this thing for cops…"

"Jon? You know Bon Jovi? What other 80s bands do you know personally? Journey? REO Speedwagon? Jefferson Starship?"

"I lived next door to Billy Joel in the Hamptons for a while, but there was an incident with a hot tub, his ex-wife and a bottle of scotch…needless to say, he's not going to do me any favors in this lifetime."

She smiles against the collar of his jacket. "I'll be sure not to request him for my wedding song then."

"I never did like his music anyway."

She lets that settle, takes out a few hearts from the open bag. "Yet you still know all the words to _Piano Man_."

"Because he played it all the time, Beckett. Morning, noon, night. We get it, Billy. You're the Piano Man! But Petty," he says, pressing play, "actually is the man."

The opening chords of Kate's favorite Petty song starts and she loves that he's chosen this one, loves how the soft melody fits in-between them. She looks down at the hearts in her hand and reads what she can by the little light reflecting off the roof. _Love you. Soul Mate. Me & You. True Love. First Kiss. Love her._

It's like he has written these himself, snuck a couple of extra ones in as if he was telling her a story, spinning theory on how they ended up here. She pops one into her mouth – it doesn't really matter at this point which one – and stares up at the sky.

"When I was younger, I hated that you could never see the stars in the city." She means to enjoy the silence, but the words come now. She's opening herself up to him and it's no longer in her control. "Every summer we'd head to this little cabin upstate and before I went to bed my mom and I would spend hours under the stars. It was so beautiful, Castle. Wide open, stretching for miles with no end in sight. I started to miss it during the school year so she would take me to Grand Central. She showed me the stars on the ceiling of the main concourse. I used to love the zodiac. I loved that it was created backwards."

"As seen from heaven," Castle murmurs. "Your mom's anniversary is tomorrow."

He steals her breath away and she should expect it by now, but she never does. "Yeah."

"What do you do on it?"

He's still holding her, grounding her, urging her to continue. "Work mostly. Distract myself. If I'm home, I'll read, take a bath with a glass of wine." She pauses and she's given him so much tonight, but she thinks maybe he deserves more. "The first few years were the worst. My dad was still drinking, I was alone and I would come home and re-read _Gathering Storm_. It was always my favorite in the series and there was something so comforting in it. Everything had a purpose, everything made sense."

He sounds flattered when he speaks, but the need to say thank you is irrelevant at this point. "I should have you writing my book reviews."

"I think you do just fine without me."

His lips are at her ear. "Can I take you out tomorrow? Or in. Whatever you're in the mood for."

"You don't need to babysit me, Castle. I've been through eleven of these before."

Kate lets go of his hand and she's facing him now. She sees it all in his eyes: the dedication, the devotion, the love.

He had been asking about Alexis at the time, but she remembers what she had said when he asked her how she knew she was in love. _All the songs make sense._ Tonight, as she danced with him to Chicago, as the lyrics to Tom Petty's music lingers around them, she knows the truth she can't yet admit, but can't deny either.

_I'm in for the long run, wherever it goes._

Her lips are on his then, and his hands are bracing the back of her neck, tangled in her hair. He opens to her, and she tastes the champagne, tastes every nuance of him that she's allowed to slip into her dreams for years now. Her upper lip is between his and she sighs into his mouth, into all he's giving her. They stay like this until she can't breathe, until she needs the assaulting air of the night. Their lips part, but their foreheads are still pressed together and she inhales, tries to steady her heart.

"You can buy me a drink at the Old Haunt tomorrow," Kate whispers.

"No dinner?"

She rubs the corner of his lip with her finger. "We'll see how drinks go."

He's smiling at her like she allows him on those rare occasions, the one that tells her everything. And then his eyes widen in realization, the moment gone, and he looks like the excited little boy he was when she first met him. "Wait, so when you were re-reading my books, was it in the tub?" His mouth drops, voice filled with innuendo. "Sex scenes? Katherine Beckett, that is-"

"None of your business."

"Which could only mean yes! I've had dreams that started like this."

"Why does that not surprise me?" She pushes back from him, lifting a knee to stand, hoping she can. "I think it's time to go in."

"You really don't want to answer that question, do you?"

"Castle, shut up."

He doesn't; it doesn't bother her as much as it once did.


	2. Chapter 2

Sunday, January 8, 2012

3:00 a.m

The electronic key slides effortlessly into the lock, buzzing them in.

It's all white and marble in the foyer of the suite and Castle flips the light, illuminating the space. The shades are left open and from this high up Manhattan seems small, a world easy to conquer. He watches as Kate looks around, the amazement drawn across her features. It's not often he sees the reaction of pleasant surprises in her, but he has tonight, more times than he can count.

"Castle, this is gorgeous." She walks further into the room, past the couch and to the window. She's reflecting back in the glass windows, gazing out into the city, trying to memorize a skyline that'll be nothing but a memory come tomorrow. It'll be her murder board, a place to find answers so different than the ones she's searching for tonight. "You didn't have to do this." She's walking back to him then, and she's smiling. "You didn't have to get Lanie and Espo's room either. Or the honeymoon suite for Jenny and Ryan."

"I didn't!"

"Castle, come on."

"You really do have powers, you know." She's back in his breathing space, leaning against threshold that leads into the bedroom. "I know how hard the three of you work. I thought it would be nice for one night to enjoy the magical parts of the city."

"You didn't even add yourself into that. I'm impressed."

"I know, right?"

She shrugs out of his jacket, dangling it off her finger. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

He places it over his arm and he's leaning closer to her. Her hair is windblown, her cheeks pink and he can still smell her perfume lingering in the air. "You looked gorgeous tonight, Kate."

He loves watching her when he gives her a compliment, all appreciation and self doubt in the nod of her head. "You don't clean up so badly yourself. $3,500 for the suit, though?"

"I got it on sale. The damage could have been a lot worse."

It's quiet between them – nothing but their breathing – and he should tell her goodnight; it's just past three in the morning, they've had a long day, some other excuse that'll have him tossing and turning on that small couch all night anyway. Kate rests her hand on his chest, over his heartbeat, and he feels like he's written this scene between them before, if only in his mind. She's staring at him and it's that long telling look she gets sometimes, the look that keeps him hopeful for the future. It's different tonight, a glimpse into whom she's trying to allow herself to be.

"We should…" Castle points behind him to the couch. "I'll see you in the morning, Kate." He tilts his head and bends down, kissing her cheek.

He's walking away when she grabs his hand. "Rick," she breathes and he's back in front of her, lips pressed against hers. He's pushing her against the wall; his hands tangle in the waves of her hair. He parts her lips with the tip of his tongue and she's sighing in pleasure. Her body arches against the wall, her pelvis rising and she's slamming into him. He's hard, wanting, and her ass in his hands, firmly in place because otherwise this'll end here and now and she'll never let him live it down.

Kate untucks his shirt and his mouth has moved down to her neck, the dip in her cleavage. She's sweet, not like cherries like he'd expected, but vanilla and he wonders how many foods she'll ruin for him over time. He's undoing her dress and the blue chiffon falls onto the floor in a gathering heap, her right leg wrapping around his ass. She's still in those damn silver stilettos and nothing else but a navy thong that accentuates every curve he's imagined over time.

His mouth is over hers again, fingers trailing when he feels her scar under his fingers. Her heartbeat quickens and he doesn't linger there, doesn't allow her to believe that she's anything less than who she was always meant to be. He palms her breast, rubs his thumb over her hardening nipple and her attention is solely on him, moaning his name into his mouth.

They're moving into the dark bedroom, the lights of Manhattan reflecting over the bedspread. She's bathed in it as she falls back on the bed, and he's standing between her legs, slowly dragging her underwear off. He drops them on the floor and she leans back on her elbows, looking at him. Her eyes are darker than he's ever seen them and she wraps her heels around him, pulling him down on top of her. He's straining through his pants and her lips quirk.

"Works a little better if you have those off," she teases, and her voice is hoarse with desire.

Castle's standing over her, giving her permission, and she unbuttons his pants with slow precision. Her nails skim over his thighs before moving up to his shirt. She's lazy, meticulous, fighting to keep this moment going. His shirt is on the floor then, on top of his pants and boxers that are surely to have been ruined, and he's on his knees, hands sliding up her thighs. Her breathing is labored, and she's gorgeous, all of her. His breath is hot against her center and she nearly arches up into him, fisting the covers for support.

"I was hoping you'd be vajazzled," and it has the desired effect he was hoping for.

She's on her side and she's laughing, and he could spend the rest of his life like this if she allows him.

"In the three and a half years you've known me, what would ever make you think I'd do that?"

He's sliding up her body, on top of her now, settling between her legs. He grazes her wetness and her eyes slip closed as she lets out a moan.

"You'll full of surprises, Beckett." He presses a kiss against her lips. "I was hoping that would be one of them."

He hears one of her heels hit the floor, followed by the other one. The noise distracts him and she's arching off the bed before he realizes it and he gasps as he slides inside of her. Her hands are around the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back down to her and they're unmoving because in all the sex scenes he's written, in all the times he's imagined it, it's never been as right as this.

"Hell will freeze over before I ever do that," she murmurs. He snakes a hand down her stomach, resting it over her center. He slides a finger over her clit and she's biting her lip, squirming underneath him.

"Come on," he goads. "For my birthday one year? Next Christmas? You can write Nikki Heat in studs."

"Speaking of, if the fictional version of me has vajazzling in your next book, I'll kill you."

He rocks over her, simultaneously pressing his finger harder over her spot. She shudders underneath him, but she doesn't let go, doesn't lose the battle quite yet. "I love when you sweet talk me, Beckett."

Kate's lips press against his ear. "I'm not kidding, Castle."

"I got it, I got it. No vajazzling for Nikki Heat."

She laughs, and then she's flipping him over because she'd have to take charge eventually, should have expected it, especially when it came to sex. She's domineering and a powerhouse and she's straddling him, her hair falling around his face. He slides his fingers through it and she's still not moving, just grinning at him.

"All right, where is it?"

He looks up at her confused. "Where's what?"

"The cheesy writer line that must be coming. Something like _I want to make love to you_ or _You complete me._"

Castle grips his hips and she's tightening around him, losing the breath she's teasing him with. "Who do you think I am? A harlequin romance writer? Nicholas Sparks? I would never say cliché lines like that." He spins her again until she's beneath him, a tumbling game of cat and mouse. "And just for that, you can't be on top."

But she's smug, and she's still smiling, stretching her arms out above her. "Whatever you say, Castle."

He's done with the teasing then and he's moving over her, fast, their verbal foreplay a distant memory. Her hands grab his ass, drawing him further up inside of her and he's so swollen and ready for her that he aches, that he feels her own aching pulsate around his cock. She whispers his name, moans it and he thrusts his tongue in her mouth. They're all hands and movement and she's trembling underneath him. He slides his fingers between hers like he had earlier tonight out on the roof, and he knows she's about to let herself go, can feel as her body slowly begins to lose control. He's swiveling his hips, faster, desperately, and he's watching her, as her eyes change dark into light. Her face contorts in pleasure and she's writhing under him and this alone might have him beating her to the finish line.

She whimpers his name and one hand is back between her legs and he's working every angle on her, drawing pleasure from her and control is no longer hers. She lets go, arching up into him with a strangled cry. Her released desire is all around him and he's not far behind her as he comes, his mouth so perfectly fit against hers that all he can taste is her.

Castle rolls off of her, his leg still fit between hers and his lips are against her neck, licking her heated skin. Her head is on her shoulder, breathing labored, and he'll have to remember to thank Ryan come daylight for having a wedding.

"He was wrapped around her, and making love had found new meaning," Castle says in his most seductive voice.

Against his shoulder, Kate laughs. It rumbles against him. "There it is." She lifts her head, places a kiss on the corner of his lips. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint."

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

4:15 a.m

There's a trail of salt around the curve of her belly button.

It had started as an innocent joke; it was supposed to be a shot of whiskey before bed from the mini bar, a drink to cap off the night. She had been lying on the leather chaise lounge that faced the large glass windows and Manhattan, clad in a robe from the hotel room when he had come over with four mini bottles of tequila. She had looked at him, shook her head, and vehemently declined; they weren't doing tequila shooters right now. He made some comment that they had to incorporate Nikki and Jameson's first night into their own and what better way than tequila?

"You're a little too engrossed in your characters, Castle," she had teased.

He hadn't missed a beat. "You don't get to number one without being thorough."

He was kissing her then and it had flashed through her mind that maybe _one_ shot was okay, so she had agreed. He had opened her robe and the salt was around the curve of her breast before she could stop him (or ask where the hell he got salt and limes at four in the morning.)

Currently, he's on his sixth shot; in one minute she'll be on her fifth.

This is really not how the night was supposed to end.

Castle's hand is behind her head and he's drawing the lime from her mouth. The rind drops from her lips and she tastes the tequila when he's kissing her and she is so not gonna be happy when all this alcohol wears off in a few hours.

He's on the chaise next to her now, and she's a cop for Christ's sake who _really_ should not be doing body shots and lewd sex acts in front of an open window (not that anyone could ever see them from up here, a fact that her hazy mind keeps trying to process.) It's her turn and he's handing her the shot glass, the shaker of salt. She pushes herself up and tilts his head back, before licking his lips methodically. She pours salt over them and then she's kissing him, before taking the tequila.

"This was my best idea ever," he stage whispers.

She's shaking her head. "Or your worst."

He reaches on the floor next to them, pulling up both of their phones. "Siri, I've missed you. Talk to me, Siri."

"She's not On-Star. There's not a real person in there."

"You're logical when you're drunk."

Kate rests her head on his shoulder and she's scrolling through his phone for some music. It's too quiet up here and she wants to move, because if she's going to be this ridiculously drunk in a penthouse overlooking New York, she's sure as hell going to enjoy it.

"You're joking, right?"

He looks over her shoulder. "What? I have good taste in music!"

"Castle, Katy Perry? You actually have _Tub Thumping_ on your phone? Do you sometimes write your name as Jameson Rook on things?"

"Like my school books? And I'll have you know that Alexis put Katy Perry on there!" She raises an eyebrow, calling him on his bullshit. "Fine, Alexis hates Katy Perry but do you even understand how much _Last Friday Night_ describes my former life? It's like she lived inside of my brain when writing that. She talks about streaking in the park! I got arrested for that!" His fingers are traveling down her stomach and she sucks in an inhale. His breath is hot on her ear when he whispers, "You remember. You read my rap sheet when we met. It was like foreplay when you had me in that interrogation room."

He brushes his thumb over her clit and she's arching into his hand. "No," she mutters, her eyes fluttering closed. "It wasn't foreplay. I really didn't like you when we met."

"But you like me now?"

Kate eyes his straining erection, rolling over on top of him. "You're growing on me."

"Oh my God, Beckett, that was such a perfect Castle line!"

"I guess you've rubbed off on me." She's laughing, burying her face in his neck. "This is not going to end well."

His phone buzzes and she sees Esposito's name pop up. "Did you text Espo?" she asks. "He says he'll be up here in ten minutes with Lanie. I'm going to kill you, Castle!"

"Esposito texted first! He wants to see the suite."

"And it couldn't have waited until a reasonable hour when I wasn't naked and covered in salt and lime juice?"

He tries to sit up straight, but she's over him, keeping him down. "Okay, don't be pissed at me. It's not like I told him you were licking salt off of me. I'll get dressed, you'll keep the robe on and we will be very, very, very platonic," Castle finishes on a whisper. "They'll never know."

"You really think that's going to work with a cop and a medical examiner?"

"No, but does it make you feel a little better that I at least tried?"

She's really going to regret this in the morning. Kate looks at the phone, lowering herself over him until he's inside of her. He bucks his hips in need and she's breathing into his mouth, biting his lip for a taste of the lime. "You have five minutes before they get up here. Better work fast."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

9:21 a.m.

"So, let me get this straight," Kate says, taking a sip of steaming coffee. She's leaning up against him in bed, wrapped in the blanket, her head melting into the fluffy white Egyptian cotton pillows. "While Lanie and I went down the hall to get ice, you and Espo decided it would be a good idea to sneak into Ryan's room while they were sleeping, steal his kilt and take pictures?" She casts an eye at the floor. "And grab more candy hearts?"

"We were really drunk," Castle responds by way of an excuse. "I still don't get why I took the kilt though."

"Yeah, because you were clearly making good decisions."

He drags his fingers lazily through her hair. "I was at some point in the night." She gives him a brief smile. "We need to check your phone. Maybe I sent you a text."

"You killed my battery after you kept asking Siri to sing Katy Perry to you. You know I won't let you live that down, right?"

"If she's there to help you, she should be there to sing to you!" Castle reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the corded phone before dialing. "Hi, this is Rick Castle in Penthouse B. You wouldn't happen to have any phone chargers down there, would you?" He pulls open the drawer beside him in obvious command from the front desk. "Oh, I like you, Mondrian. Thank you!"

He's charging her phone, the little apple symbol forming against the black backdrop. The headache continues to pound through his head and he's not sure they're going to move today. The cold air will assault; the little sun that breaks through the clouds will cause pain. Even the coffee isn't helping (although he's never been more in love with a cup than he is right now.) Despite all of that, she's still next to him, acting like this is normal, just another Sunday morning like they do this all the time. She isn't running (which is probably more about the hangover than him) and it might be the only thing he's grateful for in the current moment.

He musters up some enthusiasm. "I can't wait to see what I said."

"You'll always be an excited little boy, won't you, Castle?"

"Isn't that why you kinda like me?" he flirts.

Kate rests a hand on his cheek. "On most days, it's why you annoy me." The coffee is just under her nose and her eyes close. "I think this morning qualifies as our drinking contest. Remind me to never do it again." She's taking in deep breaths, curbing her nausea.

Unfortunately, he relates.

"Got it on," Castle says. "You have two voicemails."

"I can hardly wait," she mumbles.

"Kaaaaate!" Wow, so he was really fucking drunk this morning. "I don't know why you're not answering your phone. Maybe Siri is singing. Esposito and I are going to Ryan's room. I need to get his kilt so I can show you my legs. I'm gonna do a sexy dance for you when I return. No, not you, Esposito. Sh." The message cuts off and he puts on the next one. "Yo girl," Esposito slurs in a loud whisper, "answer your phone. Castle is grabbing the – dude, he's waking up! Get out of the bed! Oh wait, take that picture first!"

And then the line goes dead.

Kate looks at him with a quirked eyebrow. There's amusement playing out over her features. "That would explain why you're in bed with Ryan and Jenny in some of those photos."

"Do you think I did a sexy dance for you?"

"I really don't have an answer for that, Castle."

He stops scrolling through her pictures and bites down on his lip. "Uh oh."

If he had better reflexes in the moment, she wouldn't have gotten the phone away from him. Goddamn alcohol. Her face shows horror and she's shaking her head and he takes her being blindsided to grab the phone back. She's giving him that look again, the one he loves, the one that also scares the shit out of him if he were to ever really do something wrong. "Castle, delete that. Now."

"It's your phone! Besides, look how sexy we are."

He's licking salt off her shoulder in the picture, and she's laughing, pushing him away. It's a little blurry – just a long line of drunken shots that are on both of their phones – but it helps him remember a little, how the lime juice was acidic on his tongue and her skin had been the perfect agent to fix that.

"Castle, come on," she demands, interrupting his thoughts. "These things have a way of getting out there. I am not going to end up on page six with this."

"Can I at least send it to myself before I delete it?"

"Castle!"

His finger lingers over the trash icon. "Fine, but I didn't take the picture."

"Castle-"

"Stop saying my name like you're gonna spank me." His lips twitch. "On second thought…" She glares at him and he raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, but I really didn't take it! We're both in it which means-"

"Esposito." She buries her face in her hands, and her hair is shifting from side to side as she shakes her head. "Oh God, he works for me."

"You mean _with_ you."

"You know what I mean!"

"I'm sure Esplanie is too drunk to remember anything that happened. If we don't, I doubt they do. They sure caught up to us quickly, by the way."

Kate rolls onto her side, burying her head in the pillow. "I can't believe you still call them Esplanie."

"Easier." Begrudgingly, he deletes the photo. "It's gone. Like it never happened."

The shrill ringing of his phone startles him. "Another reason to get the Windows Media phone is that the battery lasts much longer."

"You're not gonna shut up about this if you get the campaign, are you?"

"Probably not." He looks at the caller ID and grimaces. "Shit, it's Ryan. Be cool." He puts it on speaker. "Hey, man, what's up?"

"Castle, give me my kilt back."

Castle laughs, a little too obviously. "What are you talking about? I'm just getting up. In my suit."

"There were about thirty candy hearts in my bed this morning with a note that read _Love you guys, borrowing wedding skirt for a dance._ Now I'm not going to ask how you got into our room because you got us a band and a suite for our wedding and I'm not sure I want to know. Just stop holding it hostage and return it."

Kate rolls her eyes, points to the bathroom as she slowly gets out of bed.

"Beware of the tiger," Castle whispers. "I'll have it to you by tomorrow morning, dry cleaned," he tells Ryan.

"Thank you. Are we seeing you two lovebirds for breakfast?"

"Shhh," Castle whispers, taking the phone off of speaker. "If Beckett hears you, she'll draw blood. I'm not sure we're going to make it. There was _a lot_ of alcohol very early this morning. Want to stay in bed. I'll let you know if we're coming down, though."

He tosses the phone onto the bed. The water is running in the bathroom and he turns the TV on, muting it before the sound gives him any more of a headache. He's flipping through the channels, looking for the news, when he stops. She's going to kill him, but if he's gonna die from this hangover anyway, he might as well go out with a bit of fun.

Castle's on the highest level of his newest game of Angry Birds when she comes out and with a trained eye, he watches the expression flit across her features. Her lips lift into a small smile and she shakes her head, climbing back into bed.

"I'm going to kill Madison for telling you that."

"So, Beckett," he says, tossing the phone beside him. "Were you a Zack or Slater kind of girl?"

"I hate you so much right now."

She unmutes the television and the joke is on him because now he's sitting here watching _Saved by the Bell_ and he really should have thought this thing through. There's a tiger mascot on the screen and if he could muster the energy he'd make some joke about it, about how that should be their mascot, but for once he keeps quiet because she'll make him sit through hours upon hours of this crap just to torture him. Kate is on her side, the mug back in her hands, and it's this entirely other side to her he hadn't expected to see, like she's still that girl who came home to a carefree life to watch reruns of a children's TV show.

"Zack," she finally answers, her lips pressed against her mug. "I always liked the troublemaker. Plus, Slater had that mullet."

Castle bites down on his lip, and no, he's not going to do it. He's really not-

"Don't say it," Kate comments, as if she's reading his mind.

"Say what?"

"It was growing out."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, well, you're not saying it very loudly, Castle."

He sips his coffee; it's getting cold and he's going to need some food soon that doesn't consist of chalky Necco candy. "At least yours wasn't curly," he counters.

He doesn't argue when she smacks his chest in retaliation.

* * *

><p>Sunday, January 8, 2012<p>

12:30 p.m.

They're standing in the threshold of her apartment, silently.

She slips out of her heels, throwing them further into the room. They scatter by the couch – the one that she'll spend the rest of the day curled up on – and she turns back to face him. He's smiling down at her, and it reminds her of first crushes, and love, and things she hasn't let herself think about in a long time.

When he had picked her up last night, she hadn't expected the night to end where it did. She hadn't expected to finally give into this with him, to be grateful that she had. It was always daunting in her mind before; if she gave in then everything else would be gone. The drive to solve her mother's murder, the justification that she was giving up her life for reason. But with him, it's different. He keeps her drive alive; he helps balance her when the case starts to take over her life. The truth of their lies is no longer a barrier and she can do this, she can tell him she wants to try it with him.

"Kate…" His voice sounds strained, and she's not sure if it's the hangover or something else. "I just want you to know I'm still not pushing you to get into something you're not ready for and-"

She cuts him off with a kiss. "When you asked me earlier about doing something tomorrow, about being there for my mom's anniversary…no one's ever asked me that, Castle. No one has ever been courageous enough to bring it up to me because they think it'll make it worse or I'll go into a tailspin. It means a lot to me that you asked. I don't know if I am going to be good at this. I've had a lot of relationships that I've screwed up, that I haven't been able to give myself to. I don't want to…I don't want to ruin this with you."

"I never thought I'd be the more functional one in a relationship," Castle teases, and she's grateful for it, for his ability to know what she needs when she needs it.

"It looks like we're doomed."

He rubs his hand over her cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Letting me in last night. For giving this a shot even if there aren't answers for everything right now."

She's not quite ready to return the words he gave her when she was lying in that cemetery, so she merely nods, hoping he knows, that he understands. "Always."

He's so close to her, and it feels safe and right and exactly what she's been wanting. "I should get home before my mother and Alexis start calling police stations to find out if I've been arrested."

"Can't they just call your cell?"

"It died on our way back here."

Kate's lips quirk. "I guess it's not that magical after all."

"Still lasted longer than yours." He places a kiss against her lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. "I'll call you tonight."

It's an hour later when she's on the couch with coffee and _Gathering Storm_ (if she's not going to read it tomorrow, she might as well today) when Siri rumbles to life, startling her.

"One new text message from Castle."

She takes the phone off the coffee table. _Tell Siri I miss her already. You're right. My phone is lame in comparison._

_I bet Lou Diamond Phillips doesn't talk trash about his phone like that_, she writes back.

It takes only seconds for him to respond. _I see whose side you're really on, Beckett. Check your little purse, by the way._

It's on the floor next to her shoes and she strains to reach for it. She rifles through what little space is in there and pulls out a folded, printed picture of the ceiling in Grand Central Station. He must have gotten it from the hotel lobby when he was paying their bill earlier and in black marker written across the ceiling, it says _Tomorrow night? For memories' sake?_

She thinks if it was anyone else, she would have declined. It was her place with her mother. But with him, she gets it. She gets that he wants her to find new memories there, to bask in the old ones. He's staring up at her from the back cover of his novel and her eyes well. She blames the lack of sleep, the nausea that hasn't fully faded.

_Yeah,_ she types out. _You're still buying me a drink though._

She's back to reading when her phone buzzes again. _Let's hold off on the alcohol. Can I persuade you with sex instead?_

She smiles, because yes, yes, he can. _Deal._

* * *

><p><strong>Music selections, if interested:<strong>

**Wedding dance: You're the Inspiration ~ Chicago**

**All the songs make sense on the roof: Something Good Coming ~ Tom Petty**


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